Slow down ... you're thinking too fast

What I’ve learned the past few weeks, as I’ve tried to get back to normal, is that I’m not back to normal and trying to act like I’m normal is exhausting. And hurts my brain.

So, I’ve come to the harsh realization that I need to take a couple of steps back … and slow the heck down.

And when I say slow down, I mean literally do everything I do – including typing this blog post – slower than I did it in the past.

This isn't easy, as I’ve always been a high-rev person. My engine runs hot; my volume knob is turned up to 11. In other words: I did things as quickly as possible. This has served me well in my career as a journalist, especially when I’m on deadline, and on the bike, especially in ultra races and climbing mountains. It also helped around the house when I emptied the dishwasher, shoveled snow, painted the porch and did the bills. I got things done. Then again, maybe going fast all the time didn't help, but it’s how I’ve always done things, so I’m sticking with the notion that it helped.

But I’m not me anymore, or at least the me I used to be. And when I get all revved up, my brain gets tired, annoyed, a bit confused and definitely agitated and totally exasperated. My head starts feeling fuzzy around the edges, sort of like when you’ve had a drink or two too many and are trying really hard to think clearly and be sober, but you can’t quite think clearly no matter how hard you try.

When all this happens to my brain … it’s not a good thing.

And yes, this is frustrating. I feel like I’ve aged 20 years in the past three months … and can’t figure out how to turn back the clock or fix my brain, although I have the feeling that time and a lot of rest are the answers. At least, I hope they are. They better be.

So, I need to slow down. Take a few deep breaths, realize that whatever it is I’m doing will eventually get done and that it’s OK if it gets done a little later or a little slower than it would normally get done.

It’s OK to turn the volume all the way down to a 6 (OK, a 3 or a 4 might be a better idea for now) … the world will continue to revolve.

I used to think I’d be all better in terms of weeks, or a month … but not so much anymore.

I’ve grudingly and gradually come to the realization that my recovery could take the rest of this year, maybe longer. And I may not be riding my bike again any time soon, or even this year. And yes, this is amazingly frustrating and depressing.

The thought of getting back on a bike is daunting. There’s the physical side of it. Will my balance be OK? Will my legs be strong enough to allow me to ride like I used to ride or even close to the way I used to ride? Will I crash again?

Will I be able to ride in Pelotonia this year … or do the Ohio to Erie trail later this year with the group of riders who invited me?

Then there’s the mental aspects of getting back on the bike. Will I have flashbacks to the crash (even though I don’t remember it)? Will I have to ride only on bike paths, because cars passing me when I ride on the roads will be just too darn scary and fill me with dread and anxiety?

It will be several – and maybe more – months before I’m ready to get back on the bike and learn the answers to these questions.

I’ve also been thinking a lot lately about a couple of my friends, John and Ray, who are battling cancer and are getting chemo and dealing with all the terrible side effects that comes with this, and have it a lot tougher than me. If they can stay positive and keep fighting … so can I.